


big happy family

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family Feels, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22547098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Jaskier finds a baby then he finds Geralt. Tomfoolery and chaos ensues.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 55
Kudos: 463





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is gonna be very Casual and fun nothing plot heavy and yes the baby is cirilla will i address how the fuck she got in the woods? who knows updates for this will be... random whenever i feel like it pls have no expectations love y'all
> 
> follow me on twitter @ queermight and tumblr @ korrmin

Jaskier was traveling by himself, mumbling about the mud sticking to his shoes, when he stumbled upon the baby. He was near a stream and heard her first: quiet sniffles of a baby, obviously tired but unwilling to stop.

He blinked once and looked around, wondering if there was a family camping or living nearby. It wasn’t uncommon.

But the crying continued, even and unyielding. Jaskier frowned. If the baby was with a family it wasn’t a very good one, ignoring her like that.

Jaskier decided there was no harm in checking, he decided, as he followed the wails, stepping over puddles and fallen trees.

He brushed a few branches out of his way and saw the stream, sparkling beautifully under the sun, high in the sky.

Jaskier stepped closer, nearing the stream, and pursed his lips, hands on his hips. The wailing had stopped.

“Hello?” he called. No answer.

Sighing, he turned away and paused when he heard a tiny, wet sob. Jaskier turned back around, slow.

He searched the area with his eyes, finally finding the source of the sound: a basket near the stream, covered with dirty blankets.

Jaskier gulped. “N–no way, right?” he said, talking to himself as he slowly approached the basket.

Crouching down, he reached out.

“AHHH!”

Jaskier startled, fingers pausing midair. There was no denying it anymore. He gently pulled the blankets off the basket and stared down into the chubby face of a baby, round and red from crying.

“Fuck,” he whispered before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Clearing his throat, he stood up and reached down, lifting the baby out of the basket. It was thankfully not a very cold day and the baby seemed fine beyond her constant screaming.

Jaskier held it–her, he thought–against his chest, rocking her back and forth.

“Shh, darling,” he said into her ear. “You’ll be fine.”

The baby sniffled loudly and, by some miracle, actually quieted down, fisting the front of his shirt in her chubby little hands.

Jaskier rubbed his hand up and down her back, looking around and debating what to do. He was miles away from any town or city.

“Okay,” he breathed, deciding what to do. Not that he had many options, of course, he couldn’t leave a baby on their own in the woods. He held her, close, as he trudged back to the main path.

Jaskier walked for about an hour before taking a break. He walked over and sat on a rock, petting the young girl’s hair–or lack thereof–with one hand as he dug in his bag for food and water.

He pulled out his container of water and took a gulp before gently pressing the opening to the baby’s lips. She sniffed once before understanding and taking a sip.

Jaskier sighed. “Thank the Gods,” he muttered as he shoved the water back in his bag. Now for the harder part.

He used one of his small daggers (that he started carrying at Geralt’s recommendation) and cut a small piece off the apple he’d brought with him.

He took the small piece and mushed it a little between his fingers before offering it to the young girl, who sucked it off eagerly, obviously starving.

Smiling warmly, Jaskier repeated the motions a few times until she no longer wanted more, turning her head away when he offered it.

“Happy?” he asked, searching her face.

She was adorable, he thought, with her pale skin and big green eyes and golden eyebrows, just as sparse as the hair on her head.

She smiled and his heart soared at the sight.

“Good,” he said, grinning back.

Far-off he heard the sound of hooves on dirt and he quickly stood up, cupping the back of her head protectively. The young girl started to cry again and he wondered if it was the sound or if she was feeding off his fear.

He soothed her with sweet nothings as he walked into the woods.

“Please,” he begged. “Quiet down.”

Finally she obeyed, pursing her little lips as the sounds grew closer. Jaskier held her, tight, as he peered around a tree. He realized immediately what he was looking at.

It wasn’t a stranger or a threat, but a familiar man with grey hair and a suit of armor. Jaskier smiled without even realizing it.

He ran out from behind the tree. “Geralt!”

The Witcher stopped his horse, Roach, and steadied him with an unimpressed look. “So you finally managed to knock someone up?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier frowned, cradling the girl. “She’s not mine, Geralt,” he said as he walked closer. “I - I found her.”

Geralt’s other eyebrow raised, joining the first. “Found her?” he parroted. “She’s not a dog, Jaskier.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together, tight. “I’m well aware,” he said tersely. “She’d been abandoned in the woods, Geralt.” He held her tighter. “I couldn’t just leave her.”

Geralt watched him for a long, silent moment. “Of course not,” he said gruffly, and Jaskier smiled, just barely. “Well, good luck.”

He started to turn away, fingers tightening on Roach’s reins.

“Geralt!” he exclaimed, rushing in front of Roach before she could take off. “You’re not seriously leaving me, are you?”

Geralt sighed heavily, and Jaskier could see in the loose line of his shoulders he was already giving in, accepting his fate. “What do you want me to do about your little discovery?”

“I don’t have a horse,” he replied quickly. “And the closest city is still miles away. Just… give us a ride there and you can be on your way.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes. “As if things are ever that easy with you,” he said, but there was no real heat behind the words.

Jaskier smiled sheepishly, adjusting the baby in his arms.

“Okay,” Geralt said. “Come over here.”

Jaskier rushed over and handed the squirming baby to Geralt, who held it like he was afraid of it, which was a sight to behold. Jaskier climbed up behind him and settled on the back of Roach.

Geralt turned as soon as he was finished and handed him the baby.

“The mighty White Wolf,” Jaskier said with a grin, “scared of no monster, but terrified in the face of a human baby.”

“Shut up,” he grunted as he pulled on Roach’s reins and she took off.

-

Jaskier realized, fairly quickly, that the baby loved riding. She dozed off and slept for hours, her little fingers clutching loosely at Jaskier’s shirt.

Geralt only pulled off the main road and stopped Roach when the sun was setting, an odd look on his face.

“We can’t travel through the night,” he said gruffly. “Not with… her.”

Jaskier grinned. “Aww, you care,” he said, ignoring Geralt’s frown. He shoved the baby in his arms and climbed off Roach, taking her back once his feet were firmly on the ground.

Jaskier watched as Geralt jumped off Roach and took hold of her reins, leading them into the woods. The baby started to cry once she realized they were no longer riding.

Jaskier sighed and pet her head, trying to calm her.

Geralt found them a safe spot tucked away far in the woods. He tied Roach up and began working on a fire while Jaskier settled on the ground on top a blanket, placing the baby between his legs.

She laughed, thrilled to be free, and tried standing, using Jaskier’s legs, but fell right back down with a pout.

Jaskier laughed airily and held her up, watching as she giggled and kicked her legs, walking in spot.

Geralt stepped away from the fire and crouched near them. Jaskier pretended to be focused on the baby but really he was watching Geralt, who had an odd look on his face again, pinched and tight.

“I need to grab us something to eat,” Geralt said finally, breaking the moment.

Jaskier looked up and nodded, letting the baby fall forward against his chest. “Okay, we’ll be here.”

Geralt hesitated. “You have your daggers?”

For Geralt, that was a loaded question. His way of showing he was worried. Jaskier smiled, rubbing the baby’s back as she curled up against his chest. “I do.”

Geralt nodded curtly as he stood up and grabbed his swords, disappearing into the woods.

Jaskier looked down at the sleeping girl. “I think you’re growing on him already,” he whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt returned with a deer and Jaskier gasped dramatically, covering the baby’s eyes. Geralt stared at him blankly. “What are you doing?”

“We can’t let her see a murder victim,” he whispered.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stomped back into the woods. Jaskier heard the sound of his sword as he properly prepared the deer for roasting.

Satisfied, he uncovered the baby’s eyes and adjusted her in his lap.

Geralt returned ten minutes later and placed the deer over the fire. He sat down across from Jaskier and the baby, the fire a barrier between them.

“So,” Jaskier said, petting the girl’s head. “I was thinking–”

Geralt grunted. “Why?”

Jaskier pouted, his hand lowering to the baby’s back, gently patting it. “We should probably, like, call her something.”

“Yes,” Geralt replied instantly: “The baby.”

Jaskier frowned, unimpressed. “Wow, amazing, Geralt. Yes, let’s not treat her like a human being–that’ll do wonders for her ego.”

“You’re talking as if you won’t be pawning her off in two days,” he remarked, and Jaskier froze, realizing he was right. Soon they’d be in the city and Jaskier could give her over to the city’s orphanage.

Jaskier pressed his lips together, tight. “But still–”

“Fine,” Geralt grumbled, turning the sticks over the fire to roast the other side of the meat. “Do what you want.”

Jaskier sighed heavily, looking down into the wide-eyed face of the baby. She blew bubbles with her mouth–gross–and he smiled, leaning down and rubbing their noses together.

He heard Geralt clear his throat and he looked up, immediately noticing the odd, pinched expression on Geralt’s face.

“The food,” Geralt said in way of an explanation. He held out a stick of meat.

Jaskier accepted it and the baby wailed, obviously feeling left out. Jaskier pulled off a small piece of meat and kneaded it between his fingers until it was mush. He caught Geralt’s disgusted look and smiled.

“She’s a _baby_ , Geralt,” he reminded her.

She happily ate the mushy meat, and Jaskier ate his own, watching her with something like–amusement and something else, something deeper.

Afterwards, she dozed off, curling up against his chest.

“We should get some rest, too,” Geralt said gruffly. “We’ll be traveling most of the day tomorrow.”

Jaskier hmmed. “Not sure that’ll work with a baby, but sure, we can try.”

Geralt almost looked amused as he stomped out the fire and laid down in the grass. Jaskier sat up for a long, quiet moment, cradling the baby like she was something dear (because she _was_ , wasn’t she?)

“Geralt,” he said finally.

He grunted in reply.

“You’re not actually sleeping over there, all by yourself, on the _grass_ , right?”

Geralt grunted again before replying: “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Um, yes,” he replied breezily. “We have a blanket over here that could easily fit your big oaf of a body.”

The sun was setting and it was getting dark but he could still clearly see the amused quirk of Geralt’s lips. “ _We?_ ” he parroted.

Jaskier shifted, pressing a kiss to the top of the baby’s head. “Yes, _we_.”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” he asked blandly.

Jaskier brightened like the sun. “Nope,” he confirmed cheerily. “Get over here.”

Geralt sighed as he got to his feet and circled the remains of their fire, sitting on the blanket beside Jaskier. Jaskier smiled brightly, pleased, as he laid down, facing Geralt, and set the young girl between them, their bodies working as barriers to keep her from wandering off too far.

“Hmm,” Geralt hummed thoughtfully. “Smart.”

Jaskier was maybe a little too pleased with the compliment. “Goodnight.”

Geralt grunted in reply and soon they were all asleep, curled up together on the blanket.

-

Jaskier opened his eyes, just a sliver, and searched for the baby. She was nowhere to be seen and neither was Geralt and his stomach lurched with fear. He sat up quickly and looked around, spotting them a few feet away.

Geralt was holding her in one arm, demonstrating how to use a dagger with the other. Jaskier was torn between amused and _terrified_.

“Geralt!” he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. “You can’t do that!”

He looked over at the bard. “Why not?” He bounced the baby a little when she started to cry and it was a sight to behold.

“She’s a baby,” he said, like he needed to remind him. He walked over and took her. “She can’t hold a dagger.”

Geralt looked at him oddly. “I know that, Jaskier,” he said, like Jaskier was the crazy one.

“Okay?” he replied, confused. “So why were you–” he pointed at the dagger.

Geralt hmmed, tucking it away. “There’s no such thing as too early to learn.”

“Okay, okay,” Jaskier replied and he was mostly just amused now if not a little worried. He patted the baby’s back. “How about we at least wait until she can walk?” he offered, compromising.

He only realized what he’d said when Geralt didn’t reply, staring at him.

“I mean, you know what I mean,” he stammered.

Geralt just stared at him, silent, for a moment longer. “We should go,” he said finally, turning away and picking up his things.

Jaskier frowned, wanting to say something but having no words. He walked over and gathered his own things, balancing the baby on his hip with one arm around her.

He was getting used to carrying her, at least.

-

They traveled for a few hours that day, mostly silent. Until, of course, the baby started throwing a fight, waiting and thrashing in Jaskier’s arm until he almost dropped her and he gasped.

“Stop!” he exclaimed and Geralt listened, pulling on Roach’s reins.

He handed Geralt the baby and jumped to the ground, taking her back in his arms seconds later. She was still acting up.

“Can’t you make her stop?” Geralt hissed.

Jaskier almost laughed because: “Yes, Geralt, what a _genius_ idea–I don’t know what I’d do without your help.”

“You know what I mean,” he replied sharply.

Jaskier glared at him. “Oh, yes, I do,” he assured him. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

Geralt frowned, silent, as Jaskier bounced the baby in his arms.

“Come on, baby,” he said, forcing cheerfulness. “Please, please stop crying.”

She sniffed and for a moment–a beautiful moment–he thought she was going to stop but then she opened her mouth wider and cried harder. Jaskier winced and pushed her, tight, to his chest.

“We can’t travel with her like that,” Geralt pointed out, unhelpfully.

Jaskier sighed heavily. “I know,” he grumbled. He shifted her in his arms and frowned. “Oh, oh, no,” he said, smelling something foul.

Geralt had gotten off Roach and was standing next to him, holding her reins. He looked at Jaskier curiously. “Wh–?” he started before he stopped, his nose scrunching up. “Disgusting.”

“We should find a stream or something,” he said quickly.

Geralt nodded and tugged on Roach’s reins. “I’ll find one and be back.”

Jaskier nodded, silently thankful, as Geralt disappeared into the woods with Roach. He pet the girl’s head, trying to calm her. “We’ll get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” he assured her.

-

Geralt returned a few minutes later and told Jaskier to follow him. He led him, and the baby, through the woods and to a stream. Jaskier was relieved and thankfully the baby quieted down, too.

He asked Geralt to put out the blanket, which he did without question, and Jaskier set her down on it.

“Now gather me some water?”

Geralt nodded curtly, looking out of place, as he gathered water and brought it over. Jaskier undressed the girl; she’d been in a ratty outfit made of wool when he found her, which looked like it was expensive at one point but now wouldn’t be worth a coin.

She was wearing a diaper made of cloth and he took it off, shoving it toward Geralt, who looked at him with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked. “Wash it.”

Geralt frowned, looking displeased, but he took it and walked to the stream anyway. Jaskier poured some water over her, careful not to soak her too much, rinsing her off.

She immediately quieted down after that and Geralt returned with her diaper seconds later. He’d already rung it out, thankfully, so Jaskier had Geralt hold her up while he wrapped and tied the cloth back around her.

“There,” he said, satisfied. “All better.”

He looked over at Geralt, who had that same weird, pinched expression back on his face. Jaskier frowned and waved his hand in front of his face. Geralt blinked once and seemed to come back to himself. “What?” he asked gruffly.

Jaskier smiled, the barest hint of teeth. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Geralt shrugged, looking at the young girl again. “This whole thing is just really fucking weird,” he said, blunt and honest as ever.

“Well, I’d be more concerned if you found this perfectly normal,” he replied, meaning it, as he stood up with the young girl in his arms. “Come on; we should be able to get a couple more hours in before the sun sets.”


	3. Chapter 3

The baby was mostly quiet after that, sleeping on and off. Jaskier was beyond grateful; he needed the break.

Geralt stopped them when the sun was low in the sky. They had a routine worked out by now–Jaskier handed him the baby before climbing down, taking her back from him once his feet were on the ground.

The baby squirmed and he pet his hair, hoping she wouldn’t throw a fit again.

She thankfully settled down with a little yawn and oh, Jaskier’s heart tugged at the sight. Geralt cleared his throat.

“Come on,” he said gruffly and Jaskier nodded, following him into the woods.

They found a promising looking clearing, smooth ground in all directions for a few feet, and settled for the night.

Geralt started a fire before he stood up, unsheathing his sword. “Be right back.”

Jaskier nodded, rubbing his hand up and down the baby’s back. Normally, he didn’t feel much of anything when Geralt stalked off for dinner.

But now, with a baby in his arms, he felt on edge whenever he left, afraid of what would happen if thieves–or Gods forbid, a _monster_ –showed up.

Thankfully Geralt returned a few minutes later, a sour expression on his face.

“What?” Jaskier asked, mildly amused as he shifted the girl in his arms.

He held up two rabbits. “This is the best I could find,” he said. “No deer for miles.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes and turned, placing the baby gently on the blanket. “Frankly, I don’t think she has much of a preference,” he remarked, light and teasing, as he brushed a hand over her hair.

Or lack thereof, really.

“Well, I do,” he replied gruffly but there was no missing the upturn of his lips.

Jaskier hmmed, watching as he prepared the rabbits and put them over the fire. Soon the air was full of the smell of meat.

The baby squirmed for a moment before opening her eyes, making grabby hands for Jaskier. He smiled brightly and picked her up.

“I think she’s hungry,” Geralt said with a hint of amusement.

Jaskier nodded and accepted one of the sticks, taking a small piece and mushing it for her. She licked it off his fingers happily.

“So,” Jaskier said once she was finished, turning her nose up at his offers, “I was thinking–”

Geralt sighed deeply. “ _Again?_ ”

“Yes,” he replied sharply. “I do have a brain, Geralt.”

Geralt smirked, nodding for him to go on.

“I understand why you think we shouldn’t, um… name her,” he said, speaking slow. He really did understand; there was no point in getting attached when she wasn’t their– _his_ –daughter.

Geralt was no longer smirking. He watched him with a blank expression.

“But it’d just be easier if we had _something_ to call her,” he continued quickly.

Geralt sighed again, looking away. “I–you have a point,” he conceded finally. “But Jaskier,” he continued, a serious expression on his face, “you need to be careful.”

Jaskier’s arms tightened around the baby, just a little. “I know,” he replied.

“Okay,” Geralt said, though he didn’t look convinced. “What did you have in mind?”

He shrugged, looking down into her big, green eyes. “I–I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe, um. Emerald?”

Geralt snorted. “You’re a poet and _that’s_ the best you can do?”

Jaskier frowned with no real heat. “Yeah, well, do you have better ideas?”

He shrugged and Jaskier, grinning evilly, released the young girl. She crawled over, barely a foot, and climbed into Geralt’s lap. His expression was _priceless_ , wide-eyed.

But then… the most surprising thing happened: Geralt smiled, peering down into the young girl’s face as he picked her up.

Jaskier felt… _something_ watching them, overwhelmed by the intensity of the emotion. “Um, so,” he stammered. “Any ideas?”

Geralt placed her back in his lap. “Ciri,” he said with an air of finality.

Jaskier smiled as he scooted closer and pet her hair. “Okay,” he said because it wasn’t as if he _disliked_ it. Though he might’ve been just a little bitter that Geralt was choosing. “Um, inspired by anything or–?”

“No,” he replied almost instantly. “Just–fits her, I think.”

Jaskier looked down at her and agreed. “Ciri,” he repeated softly and she grinned, showing off mostly gums and just a few teeth. “I think she agrees,” he remarked.

Geralt hmmed, looking pleased with himself, but didn’t say anything.

-

Sleeping with a baby was… not fun, to say the least. The first couple of nights Ciri had been thoughtful of them, evidently, but things were changing and not for the better.

She was screaming, like, _nonstop_ , and Jaskier was starting to think Geralt was going to snap. His expression was pinched, tight, and unforgiving.

“I’ll just–okay,” he said, not waiting for Geralt’s reply. He stood up, cradling her, and walked off.

Not far–he wasn’t stupid–but far enough he hoped Geralt could unwind, her cries muffled by the few feet.

He brushed his hand down her back, over and over. “Please, darling,” he pleaded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Geralt is going to snap if he doesn’t get his beauty sleep.”

Jaskier leaned against the closest tree and hugged her, tight.

Words obviously weren’t helping, but she seemed to enjoy his touches, at least, so he kept touching her, running his hand down her back, through her hair.

He was standing there for maybe five, six minutes when Geralt showed himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and that was the most surprising thing he’d heard all day.

Jaskier blinked. “Excuse me?”

Geralt stepped closer, an unimpressed look on his face. “You heard me,” he replied gruffly. “I’m not repeating myself.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I was just sure I was imagining things, which, you know, checks with the whole hasn’t slept for almost fourteen hours thing.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and took Ciri from his arms. Jaskier sighed, slumping.

He was prepared for the screaming to continue, as it had been, but as soon as she was in Geralt’s arms, Ciri settled down, closing her eyes.

And–and Jaskier was torn between thank the Gods and what the _fuck?_

“You are _so_ not her favorite,” he said, pointing an accusatory finger.

Geralt just shrugged, but there was no missing the amusement sparkling in his eyes.

“I swear,” he grumbled with no real heat, “kids are so ungrateful.”

Geralt nudged him with his foot. “Come on,” he said, “ _we_ should just be grateful and get some sleep before she starts up again.”

He had a point, of course, so he silently followed him back to their camp.

Geralt laid on the blanket with Ciri half in his arms, half on the blanket, and Jaskier joined him. Thankfully she was still sleeping peacefully once they were settled, the moon high in the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Ciri–bless her heart–was mostly quiet during their travels the next day. Jaskier held her against his chest and she slept without a peep, burrowed against him.

They were nearing the closest town, finally, but Jaskier for some reason was not relieved at all.

Geralt had mentioned they had an orphanage, even said it seemed like a fairly nice one, but he hadn’t sounded very thrilled either. So, there was that.

Stopping for the night, Geralt started a fire and captured them dinner–a deer.

He looked happy to not be eating rabbits again as he roasted it over the fire. Jaskier smiled, genuine but brief, at the sight of Geralt with a pleased quirk to his lips.

Ciri shifted in his arms and he kissed the top of her head. “Hey, darling,” he greeted gently.

She blinked up at him, eyes owlishly wide, before her lips parted and she was screaming bloody murder. Geralt startled, dropping the sticks into the fire and cursed, snatching them back up.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Jaskier asked, searching her face for any clues. He checked her diaper but it was dry. He bounced her in his lap but she just kept screaming.

“Fine,” he said, a bit tersely, knowing what she wanted, the little devil. “Geralt, get the fuck over here.”

Geralt looked up. “I’m cooking,” he said, perfectly clean, muffled by the sound of her screams.

“Yes, well,” he replied, smiling, tight around the edges. “I don’t think she cares what you’re doing.” Jaskier pointed at the empty spot beside him on the blanket. “Here– _now_.”

Geralt grumbled but walked over, joining them, bringing the cooked meat with him. He handed Jaskier the two sticks and took Ciri in his arms with a pinched expression.

She looked up at Geralt, blinking slowly, before she relaxed, nuzzling against his chest with a happy sound. Jaskier scoffed in disbelief.

“Un-fucking-believable,” he said, taking a bite of meat off the stick, chewing loudly.

Geralt smiled for the briefest of seconds and accepted the stick Jaskier offered to him. “Jealous?”

“Jealous?” he parroted, placing a hand over his heart. “ _Me?_ Never.”

Geralt kicked him, jostling Ciri enough that she let out a small sound, a warning. Geralt quickly patted her back.

“She must think I’m her mother,” Jaskier said with a sniff.

Geralt raised an eyebrow, taking a bite out of the meat. Jaskier watched him, silent, and shook his head. He ate like an animal, the oaf. “How do you figure that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

“Well,” he said, shifting on the blanket. “Mothers are always the underappreciated ones; fathers get all the adoration.” Jaskier pointed his stick at him. “The _undeserved_ adoration.”

The corners of Geralt’s mouth quirked up in an amused smirk. He chewed slowly. “Stop trying to justify it,” he said, on the edge of light and teasing. “Just accept the fact she prefers me, bard.” Geralt peered down at her. “You have good taste, little one.”

Ciri adjusted in his arms with a little yawn, curling her hands in the front of his shirt, his armor having been discarded hours earlier.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, entirely fond. Geralt wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him roll his eyes out of any emotion _but_ fondness. “She’ll learn soon enough,” he retorted with a snort.

But then he paused, feeling the tension in the air.

Jaskier glanced over, frowning, and watched as Geralt peered down the girl again, an odd look on his face. He ran his hand over her hair, cradling the back of her head for a second before his hand fell away, landing heavily against his thigh.

“Geralt?” he prompted, quiet and unsure of himself.

He looked up sharply, lips pressed together in a firm line. “What?”

“Um, just–” Jaskier picked a piece of meat off his stick and mushed it. “She needs to eat.”

Geralt nodded curtly, looking almost relieved as he gently jostled the young girl out of her sleep. She pouted, obviously displeased, but she didn’t scream.

Jaskier offered her the meat, but she huffed and turned her nose up at it.

“ _Gods_ ,” he groaned. He offered it again, impatient. “You ate it just the other day,” he hissed.

Ciri glared at him. Jaskier glared back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a baby with so much sass,” Geralt commented, and the moment was broken.

Jaskier laughed, sudden and sharp, and Ciri joined him, little hiccuping giggles of a baby.

Afterwards, she happily ate, smacking her lips. Jaskier sighed, relieved, and leaned his weight against Geralt without even realizing it. When he did, he stiffened, expecting Geralt to say something or pull away but he didn’t.

So, relaxing, he took it a step further and leaned his head on Geralt’s shoulder, watching the baby with loving eyes. She finished her second helping of meat and turned away the third, which Jaskier allowed without a fight.

-

The next morning, they searched for a stream and stripped, nothing sexual about it. It was a normal thing for them now, just… not with a baby.

Jaskier waded in the water, Ciri in his arms, and searched until he found a rock.

Sitting down, he dipped his hands in the water and ran them over Ciri’s body, rinsing her without dunking her. It wasn’t winter yet but the water was still chilly, so.

He was being safe.

Geralt stood a few feet away, roughly washing himself off, scrubbing his scalp with his fingernails.

“Do you always have to be so rough?” Jaskier asked after a moment. “Looks painful.”

Geralt looked over at him with a frown, hands stilling in his hair. “What?”

Jaskier bit the inside of his cheek and glanced down at Ciri, an idea forming in his mind. “Here,” he said, standing up and thrusting her toward an unsuspecting Geralt, who stuttered for a second, like a robot, before he took her.

“What are you doing?” he asked gruffly.

Jaskier grinned, winking. “Sit on the rock,” he instructed without explaining a thing.

Geralt narrowed his eyes, obviously curious, but ultimately he obeyed, walking over and sitting on the rock, balancing the baby in his lap.

She stood on his thighs, swaying back and forth. Geralt held her hands.

Jaskier circled them, standing behind Geralt in the water.

“Seriously,” Geralt said, gruff, “what are you–” he paused when he felt Jaskier’s hands in his hair.

Jaskier smiled, content, as he began gently scratching Geralt’s scalp with his nails, dislodging the dirt from days of traveling. Geralt didn’t say anything at first.

Jaskier leaned over, cupping water in his hands, and stood back up, rinsing Geralt’s hair.

It was a slow process but Geralt didn’t seem annoyed, so.

He repeated the motions a few times–scratching his scalp with gentle fingers, rinsing it, rinse and repeat. Jaskier barely noticed how much Geralt was enjoying it until he did: his shoulders were loose and relaxed, his head tilted back, eyes closed.

But he pointedly never let go of Ciri’s little hands, holding her steady.

Jaskier smiled, soft and happy, and finished up. “Okay,” he said, leaning over Geralt. “All done.”

Geralt hmmed, opening his eyes and for a moment they just stared at each other, silent.

Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat just before Ciri opened her mouth and started to cry. He startled, stepping back in the water with a splash.

Straightening up, Geralt tried soothing her. It was awkward and forced. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

“She loves you, but you really are the worst parent,” he remarked, playful, but there was no missing the flash of emotion in Geralt’s eyes. His stomach lurched, painful, as he took her from him, whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

She eventually quieted down.

“Hey, Gera–” he began, needing to ask. Needing to _know_.

Geralt stood up. “We should head out,” he said, rough. “We should reach the town by tomorrow.”

Jaskier frowned, rubbing her back, and nodded. The moment was over, that much was obvious.


	5. Chapter 5

By the next morning, they had entered the town.

Neither of them mentioned anything about the orphanage, just walked to the local inn and booked a room. The innkeeper raised an eyebrow at the sight of two men with a baby, which Jaskier thought was _very_ unprogressive of her.

“Two men can have a daughter,” he was saying as Geralt took off his armor, an amused quirk to his lips.

Geralt looked over at him, “But she’s not our daughter,” he reminded him, almost gently.

Jaskier _knew_ that, he did, but looking down at her with her big eyes and curly smile he couldn’t help wishing she _was_ their daughter with a new kind of clarity. He didn’t say that, of course.

“We’ll visit the orphanage in the morning and see if they have an opening.”

Jaskier nodded silently. His stomach lurched as Ciri hummed happily and buried her face in his chest.

“Geralt,” he started, thick with emotion.

He turned on his heels and Jaskier’s words caught in his throat. Geralt had an odd look on his face. “ _Don’t_ ,” he said. “We can’t, Jaskier.”

“But–”

Geralt walked over and sat on the bed, which creaked under his weight. “I know how you feel,” he said, surprisingly honest and Jaskier just watched him, silent and waiting, “but this life is not suited to a child and you know that.”

“But it _could_ be,” he argued weakly, squeezing her tight. “We’d just have to be careful and–and when she got old enough we could train her–”

He reached out and placed a hand on Jaskier’s leg. Jaskier’s mouth snapped shut.

“Jaskier,” he said before pausing and saying, “ _Julian_ –” and Jaskier blinked, surprised, because Geralt had never called him by his real name before. “She deserves a proper home with a real family.”

“But what does that even _mean_?” he asked, searching his face. He really didn’t know.

Geralt seemed a little shocked by the question. “I mean, I–”

Jaskier leaned closer. Ciri wiggled out of his arms and plopped on the bed, splayed out. “ _You_ don’t even know,” he said, not unkindly. “What she needs – what every child needs – is _love,_ and I don’t know about you, Geralt, but I can give her that.”

“But I–”

Jaskier reached out and found one of Geralt’s hands. “You are capable of more love than you know.”

He stared at Jaskier, silent. They only looked away from each other when Ciri started to cry, probably disappointed by the lack of attention. Geralt automatically scooped her up in his arms.

Jaskier watched, smiling softly, at the sight of the big bad Witcher soothing a crying baby.

He wanted _this_ , he realized, suddenly wanting to cry. He knew Geralt couldn’t handle _two_ crying people at once, though, so he sniffed and reeled it back in.

He wanted this, yes, but he could never have it.

“Okay,” he said once Ciri had settled down. She was asleep in Geralt’s arm, clutching his shirt in her tiny hands. “We’ll – we’ll visit the orphanage tomorrow. You’re right, we need to do what’s best for her and I’m just…” Jaskier stared at her. “I’m being selfish.”

Geralt grunted and shifted closer, jostling the young girl but thankfully she just slept through it.

“You not being… _selfish_ ,” he said slowly. “I understand wanting this.”

Jaskier was a bit shocked. He looked at Geralt, who was staring at Ciri with soft, fond eyes. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. “You do?”

“Jaskier,” he said with a hint of amusement. “Do you really think I never thought about having kids?”

He hummed, tilting his head back and forth thoughtfully. “You just… never seemed interested,” he said, thinking through his words, “I mean, I’ve never even seen you _look_ fondly at a child before.”

Geralt snorted and Ciri shifted in his arms. He rubbed her back idly. “I gave up on the idea decades ago.”

“But why?” Jaskier asked, soft and quiet and truly wanting to know. Jaskier watched as a mix of complicated emotions flashed across Geralt’s face, one after the other, before finally he settled on a frown.

“I told you,” he said, “this lifestyle is not suited to a child.”

Jaskier knew he was right but somehow he knew it was _more_ than that. “And–?” he asked, gently encouraging him to be honest.

Geralt sighed and placed Ciri on the bed. She made a noise before falling back asleep.

“I know who I am,” he replied simply.

Jaskier looked at him oddly. “And what does _that_ mean?”

Geralt let out a humorless laugh, muffled as not to wake the sleeping baby. “You’ve met me, Jaskier,” he said, “You know exactly what I mean.”

“No,” he said firmly, “I don’t think I do.”

Geralt breathed out, hard, through his nose and looked away. Jaskier wanted to reach out to him, comfort him. He sat on his hands, resisting the urge.

“I am not suited to be a father,” he said and he sounded almost… _sad_.

Jaskier gasped, unable to help himself, “Geralt, you might have some… _problems_ , sure, but guess what? All fathers do.” He waited until Geralt looked at him again to say, “I think you would make a wonderful father.”

Geralt smiled for the briefest of seconds before clearing his throat, “Well, I might find out. One day.”

“Yeah,” Jaskier agreed with a sick feeling. “One day.”

-

In the morning, he sat with Ciri by the window. He told her about his life and about the world. She stared up at him with wide, sparkly eyes.

Geralt watched him from the bed. He knew he was waiting on him.

Jaskier took a deep breath and hugged Ciri tight, tight against his chest, “I will miss you, little bug.”

“Little bug?” he heard from the bed. “ _Really?_ ”

Jaskier glared at him with no real heat, “Don’t ruin my last moments with her.”

Geralt put his hands in the air, mock defeat, and Jaskier turned his attention back to the young girl.

“He’s not acting like it,” he said, hushed, “but he _will_ miss you very much, Ciri.”

She grinned and swatted at his face. His heart swelled with fondness for the child. He leaned down and rubbed their noses together. She giggled and tugged on his hair.

He wanted to stay like that forever, but he knew he couldn’t.

Pulling back, Jaskier brushed his hand over her head, through the small tuft of hair. “Okay,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I’m ready.”

He stood up, balancing her in his arms, and walked to the door. He heard Geralt’s heavy footsteps behind him and then – surprisingly – he heard, “Stop.”

Jaskier blinked and spun on his heels. Geralt was just a foot away, staring at them, a determined set to his jaw. “What?” he asked.

Ciri squirmed in his arms and he rubbed her back, soothing her.

“I – ” he stopped, tried again, “I don’t think we should do this.”

Jaskier was shocked to say the least. “But _you’re_ the one who said we should do this in the first place!” he exclaimed in disbelief. Ciri wiggled harder in his arms and he sighed, knowing what she wanted. He stepped forward and offered her to Geralt, who hesitated for just a second before taking her.

“I know,” he replied, looking down at the girl with the most fondness Jaskier had ever seen in his eyes, “But maybe you were right.”

Jaskier almost laughed, “You really _do_ like her,” he said, almost accusatory.

Geralt looked up. “Maybe we can try it.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Try what, exactly?”

“You know what I mean,” Geralt replied quickly. “See if traveling with a baby is… an option.”

Jaskier’s heart soared in his chest. “Are you serious right now?” He reached out and brushed a hand down Ciri’s back. “If you say you’re not, I will _seriously_ stab you.”

“I don’t know if it’ll work,” Geralt said gruffly. “But there’s no harm in trying. Just for a few weeks.”

Jaskier smiled, slow. He sidestepped and wrapped an arm around Geralt, who stiffened for a split second before relaxing. Ciri looked between the two men, chewing on Geralt’s hair. Jaskier laughed and gently stopped her.


End file.
